When Did It Occur?
by LuvTheEars2232
Summary: In which Ichabod realizes he may care more for the Leftenant than he originally thought. The ship of Ichabbie is a slow sailing one, sailed with slow-burning torture and subconscious flirtation. Pure Ichabbie, but with current show vibes so *sigh* Katrina will be existent until I can get rid of her. Eventually, jealous Crane will ensue...;) READ & REVIEW...Ship Ichabbie;)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**** It's been a while since I've been on the Fan Fiction Express (Three Years to be exact…) and after the heartache that was the death of King Arthur in Merlin, I have found another ship to sail—Ichabbie! I have been watching Sleepy Hollow since the beginning and the first season hadn't really done anything to make me think Ichabbie was a possibility (until the finale's purgatory hug), however this season the writers more than make up for it;)))) I am stoked for the possibilities after seeing the moments that Ichabod and Abbie share, because I am a believer that Ichabod only thinks he loves Katrina still because she is rudimentary piece of who he was 200 years ago. He is following what he thinks is love for his wife, but really he's just following habit and making himself believe he loves her as he once did. Sorry Ichy but that love's icky. Those talks and those moments, yeah we've all been noticing them. It's all gonna lead to combustion, inevitably. unfortunately, for right now, I'll just have to write what I want to see. Also, since Ichabod is still 'In-Love' with his wife(…hasn't death—a 200 year old one at that—done them apart?) he hasn't come to realize that while he may not be in love with Abbie, he feels more deeply for her than a simple friend/fellow witness connection to her. Either way, I have nothing against Katrina I just don't ship her with Ichabod (she and the HOD/Abraham are a pretty good match eh?)Btw, Katrina is a little off to me, something isn't wired right in her brain, and she is extremely befuddled. There's no room in my fandom ocean to sail that ship. Okay, now to the point relevant to the story…until Ichabod acknowledges he like of Abbie I will (attempt) to write some fictions to go along with the season that revolve around Ichabbie. Fair warning though, I have a think for the jealous type to Ichabod is not an exception…..**

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><p><em>2x05: In which a shift occurs<em>

He was keeping an eye on her, as any well to do partner should. One moment she was speaking with the…gentleman— he loathed to use the term—Holly, speaking about what, he knew not. Despite his reservation about the man, he knew she was in sufficient company.

The next moment when he scanning the impossible mass of books searching for a clue as he subconsciously wondered whether to tell her about the letter he received from Katrina. Of course he should, they are partners and they keep nothing from each other. He looks up a book in his hand and doesn't see her where she was standing a moment ago…He hears a gunshot. They only person who would be authorized to use such in an establishment of books, is his fellow witness.

Fairly alarmed, quickly walks in the general direction of the sound.

"Leftenant?" he turns a bookshelf corner just in time to see her arms flail as she is drug into a murky black pit in the ground. Ichabod quickly runs to the supernatural hole, dropping the book he'd found in the process. "NO!" He drops to his knees calling into the darkness, "LEFTENENT! LEFTENENT!" He can see motion, she is struggling, Abigail is struggling. "LEFTENANT!" Finally, Ichabod reached an arm into the abyss, searching for her, hoping to reach her. He strains, and he reaches, he leans, and he searches, until at last—he feels hands grasp at his own. Then all at once they are gone. God no! He reaches again, leaning further—almost running the risk of his own peril. He reaches more, wishing with everything in him that his arms where of greater length. He will not let her go; it will not it end like this.

He finds a greater strength within himself and plunges his arms into the depths once more and…Glory to all that is holy, he manages to grasp her hand once more. He has no intention of letting go until he has pulling her completely from her watery prison. He drags her up by her shoulders and pulls her out just in the same moment the pit sucks itself to a close. He turns back to her, laying there, eyes closed. He calls out to her.

"Leftenant?" She does not move. Why? Could she be…, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." He grabs her face in his hands to turn her towards himself. "Abbie!" He thinks to himself that this cannot be the end. She isn't supposed to die, she can't die and yet she answers not his cries. It is in this moment that Ichabod realizes he knows the true meaning of fear. The idea of living in this as yet, still foreign world seems impossible, continuing to fight the War…even more so. He needs her, she just can't die. Faintly he hears the sound of running.

"What are you waiting for!? Give her mouth to mouth man!"

"She's drowned!" He hears himself tell the man as he is pushed from Abigail's side. He watches with bated breath as Holly turns her face to breathe into her mouth, then proceeds to pump her chest as though drawing water from a spigot. She is dying, possibly already dead and he applies these actions!?

"Come on, Come…" Hollow listens to her chest as Ichabod continues to watch, discombobulated from the events taking place. Once more, he attaches his lips to hers and breathes air into her mouth.

"Please, please." Ichabod finds himself saying, deciding to believe with all his heart that Holly's efforts will revive his fellow witness. There is no alternative.

No sooner does he say this that Abigail is coughing up the water of which she had ingested. Her eyes are open and she is moving! She is breathing! Alive! She looks shocked and surprised. She gasps for air like a life line, and though she currently appears as a drowned rat, she is quite easily one of the most beautiful visions he has ever bared witness to.

For now, she has been saved.

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><p>It is not until later, after the ambulance and medics arrive, that Ichabod thinks on what had transpired. He watches her receive medical attention; she looks rather worn he notices. He stands beside Holly, the man that saved her live, the man that had in all actually, given her the breath that she breathes. Where gratitude should have been felt in immense overpowering waves, he could only feel it slightly ebbing and flowing in the recess of his mind. It was thwarted by a larger, darker, more angered force? No…it was not anger, it was…jealousy? But, why? He had saved her life. She lives from the actions of Holly, perhaps this was it. He duty is to protect her, to ensure her safety so that together they may ensure the safety of mankind…but he had failed.<p>

She could have died, would have, had Mr. Holly not been present. It angered him. It angered him to recall being pushed to the sidelines as he was useless in the endeavor to revive her, he called the fact that Holly had put his lips against Abig—the Leftenant's. It was a kiss of sorts, a kiss of life, a kiss of revival, a kiss that bothered Ichabod much more than he felt comfortable to admit. He did not like it. His fingers curled in his fist to think of it. It will not occur again. In the event of reoccurrence—he will work hard to make sure it never does—he will be prepared to rescue his partner. Not that he was assuming she'd need rescuing again as he was sure she would not too much appreciate such an assumption.

"I gotta go see a guy about a thing." He hears Holly's voice as he continues to stare at the Leftenant. "You got this right?"

Ichabod nods, solemn. "I do indeed." He does not look in the direction of Holly, until he hears his departing words.

"And you're welcome." Ichabod ignores the man and watched until the medical attends vacate the area before approaching Ms. Mills.

"Well, you look none the worse for wear." He tried to say in a light slightly jesting tone. Hoping to somewhat lighten the darkness that hung over them like a reminder the each of their mortality.

The Leftenant responded in similar jest. She smiles, "Water logged but back in action."

"Thankfully." He says this with utmost sincerity. They share a moment. One of which Ichabod had grown somewhat accustomed to, it was peaceful and companionable. It had not words, nor required any. It simply consisted of staring into the deepest pools of chocolate covered iris he had ever seen…

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><p>It was not until it was relevant that Ichabod remembered he had received a letter from Katrina that day.<p>

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><p><strong>AN: Kinda short but yeah. So what do you think? (PS. I have no beta so errors with appear in abundance)Like it? Hate it and wanna burn it? Let me know. Reviews feed the chapter writing fires and feedback gets more stylized writing. The next chapter will pick up in the same Episode but a different Ichabbie moment. Also, what rating should I give this? For now I'll stick with T, I have big plans for next chapter though…****R&R**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it took so long, I have school and whatnot, learning two languages and trying to work on my physical health. So many things, so little time. Either way, I tried to make up for the short length of the other chapter and the exponential length of the author not, by making this chapter longer. R&R**

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><p>Abbie watched from her seat at the bar as Ichabod conversed with the others on the 'Project Reenactment' crew. Truthfully, it was kind of odd, almost like watching a scene out of the movie or looking at a picture. She isn't used to seeing Ichabod actually… fit in. It sounds horrible to actually say that, but she has never seen him look as though he belonged. He sticks out like a completely antiquated sore thumb in modern day Sleepy Hollow.<p>

However, right now he looked good, at home. She had to admit he was probably quite the socialite in his day. She looked around the bar a little more, with her eyebrow unknowingly raised. She found it somewhat odd for a woman of the modern century to be having a funeral held with the traditions of an 18th century funeral (location exempt). She did suppose that some people felt like they were born in the wrong era, and meant for another time.

For once, she almost felt like an outsider. No having received that memo (not that she kept the appropriate clothing on hand) , she came dressed in a simple black dress the reached her knees and even more simple up do to her hair. Never having been one to dress up, she opted out of make-up and jewelry. Aside from the bartender, all the other attendees were dressed as Crane did on the average day. This is also in part why she decided she should better acquaint herself with a bar stool and a beer. It's funny and she thinks that maybe this is how Crane feels every day, like an outsider because of something as simple as clothing. Right now, for this little piece in time and space, in this little bar, in little Sleepy Hollow, Abby feels out of place. It's like she's been transported to the past rather than the future like Crane.

The man in question turns to speak to two individuals, a man and a woman, fully decked in 18th century clothing.

"Miss Caroline was not meant for this time," he begins, "but a richer truer moment in history." Abbie continues to watch and sees in the man and Crane share a moment that looked to be the olden version of a consoling pat on the shoulder.

Knowing crane was about to make his way over to the bar she turned her head in the opposite direction so that she didn't look like creep who's been staring at him for the entirety of the funeral. He takes the seat to her right and she finally looks over.

"Thank you for your assistance in setting up this gathering."He says.

"I know you cared for her." Abbie replies.

"Very much." He adds.

Being somewhat emotionally stagnate, and not knowing what to say in reply, Abbie settles for looking around; her eyes end up on her beer glass.

"What pains me the most," she looks back to him "is that it was my friendship that brought her to this tragic end." Those words were said with sadness in his eyes and the kind of tone that made Abby aware of the fact that he was blaming himself for the unfortunate death of Caroline. He continues, "Our mission as witnesses puts those for whom we care of the most in terrible danger."

Not wanting for him to blame himself, Abby replies "But, if we don't do this job, those same people will die in Moloch's apocalypse." Morbid, she knows, but still the truth. He has to know it's a catch 22.

While she continues to look at him, he stares straight-ahead "Our duty must be to one another, before anything…or anyone."

Seeing straight through this random, impromptu segment of 'Words of Wisdom', she knows the problem is what it almost always is, "This is another Katrina thing isn't it?" Finally, he breaks his gaze quickly glancing in her direction, and she knows…she has hit her mark.

"Marriage is difficult on the best day," He starts and she smiled to herself.

He continues, "… but without trust, without honesty how can a union between two people hope to survive?"

She hates seeing him this way, the contemplating Crane, the Crane that takes failure and unfavorable events and somehow manages to put himself at fault.

Once again she is at loss for words she says nothing but continues to watch him, hoping for some kind of signal as to how she should respond. He suddenly tries to change his countenance and lifts his glass appearing slightly more cheery that a few moments previous. Abbie grabs her own glass doing and lifts it as well.

"I suppose I could drink to that." She says, a little perplexed at the sudden attitude shift.

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><p>It had been yet another tirelessly long day, as most of their days are. Ichabod found it fascinating that the days could be filled with so much action, having them work tirelessly chasing after demons, monsters, mystical creatures and other sorts of evil beings of the world…only to be brought to such alternately contrasted moments peace. Though he was at a funeral, an occasion that is was rather morbid, he felt a peace and calmness that only came with the time spent with the Leftenant. Perhaps it was because she is the only other person in this new dimension that can understand him fully. Perhaps it is because they share similarly kindred spirits connected through time. Either way, Ichabod took comfort in her presence on this most formidable day.<p>

How he lasted until recently without the blessed release of alcohol, he has no idea. Something as simple as a card with his face and name stating what should be his already natural born right, allows him such simple liberties.

Over the course of the course of the next two hours or so, in all honesty Ichabod had lost count, they imbibed in several glasses of beers simply conversing about life and deftly avoiding the topic of the apocalypse, Moloch, Death and… Katrina. The last perhaps done more so on his part…

When did happen? Well, that is quite the question in and of itself. A question, unfortunately enough, Ichabod finds impossible to answer. He suspects though, that it begins subconsciously. They did, after all, consume copious amounts of mind altering, inhibition releasing liquid. One moment they were simply conversing about their duties to one another as witnesses and as friends, and the next hours past, time simply… flew by.

Leftenant Mills was attempting to explain to him the inexplicably complicated structure of what is known as the 'Hallyu' culture of people obsessed with a people know as South Koreans. She was droning on about three big companies, something about Jay P a YG and a MS or something another. During her elongated speech about some chap who calls himself G Dragon he believes the alcohol came to take over as clearly as it had already taken over the Leftenant.

"_His name is G-Dragon, well obviously that's not his name –name but it's his stage name. He's practically the prince of YG and he's one of if not the biggest name in the industry….." _It all became white noise after that. The world disappeared, the bar, the alcohol, her voice even...

Ichabod somehow found himself conducting a scientific study on the perfect symmetry of her physiognomy. Her hair, which normally hung like silken curtain about her face was done up in a way he had yet to see her wear until present. He felt…disappointed?

"…_Big Bang…." _She continues but he still doesn't listen as he is now staring at her eyebrows which always seem to be neatly arched, _"…but they aren't the only group, there's also 2NE1…." _How had he not noticed how beautiful her eyes are, or perhaps he had. They were like molten chocolate rivers that were sometimes shrouded in sadness. He did not like that, the sadness. _"…they seriously love music….they're like a family…"_ Her nose, he cannot liken it to a button yet it is entirely suitable to her. It is both regal and fitting.

"…_Fantastic baby…a bit much for most Americans to handle…"_ Finally, her lips… a creation of God, and as sinful as the devil himself. She spoke and he could see them moving, so much concentration was placed on her mouth that he was unable to comprehend sound. _What would I be like to taste such sin? To feel what so surely would feel like rose petals_—what was he thinking!? He's a married man!? He shakes his head, attempting but failing to clear some of the murkiness present.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, "You okay Crane? I'm not okay, I think I'm drunk, no I know I'm drunk, you have to be too because I'm talking and you're not and you always talk."

"I find I must agree with your assessment Leftenant. I am not me." He finds himself saying before attempting to stand.

"Yes you are, you're Crane silly man, and I am Leuti—no _Leftenant_ Mills." She giggles, which was infinitely out of character.

"Yes my name is Ichabod Crane, silly I am not. Am I to understand that you believe me to be a…silly man?" He, in his drunken state, appeared scandalized by the idea.

She patted his cheek. "We're both smashed partner Crane. I think it's time for us to blow this popsicle stand." She stood up entirely too quickly and lost her balance forcing her to land in Ichabod's arms. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks, even in his inebriated state. He quickly released her.

"I believe you are more…smashed than I. I will attempt to drive us home. Where are your keys?" He began searching around the bar.

"We can't drive, we're drunk. People get taken to jail by people like me for trying it. They are bad people, we can't be bad people." Ichabod watched her grab her purse and struggle to locate her cellular device. "Found it! I'll call us a cab."

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><p>"Thank you!" Abbie waved at the disappearing lights of the taxi that just dropped them off at Crane's cabin. The turned to make her way to the door, Crane right behind her. When she reached the door, she searched through her purse for the keys, not finding them; she whipped around to ask Crane. "Did I give you the—oh!" He was right there, his eyes as wide as hers probably were. Why was he so close to her? Why did he smell like the soap she's brought to the cabin the other day? Why were his eyes so damn blue? She felt her breathing increase and suddenly she wasn't as drunk as she had been two seconds ago, talk about a sensory overload.<p>

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><p>She was right there, staring at him with her eyes as wide as saucers. Perhaps it had not been the best idea to follow so closely behind her. He could hear the pounding of his own blood in his veins. He could see the affects his proximity had on her person as well, her chest rose and fell with her increased breathing and her pupil dilated. Such suggested either fright, surprise, or desire. The most logical was surprise but some fraction of his being wished for the latter.<p>

One moment she was about to ask him for the keys to the door and the next they placed in a rather comprising position. He reached for the key from his pocket and handed it to Abig—Miss Mills. She took it whilst maintaining eye contact. She turned to quickly unlock the door and pulled him inside by his hand. Before he could question her actions, her lips were on his, ghosting so softly as if unsure of her own actions. Ichabod found himself out of sound mind once again as he responded to her ministrations. His lips took hers in a sweet kiss, his tongue tasting the seam of her lips, she gasped in surprise at the action, allowing Ichabod entry into her mouth. Their mouth conjoined, their tongues met, and there was no telling who was leading whom. She felt so warm, soft…feminine.

He fleetingly registered the fact that her lips felt and tasted every bit of the sin he thought they would be. He noticed that they were in motion to the bedroom. _This is taking too long_, he thought. Ichabod lifted her up and she straddled his waist, her arms linked around his neck. He carried her to the bedroom, and with gentleness he did not feel, laid her upon the bed. Perched on her elbows, she stared up at him, he lips swollen from the force of his kisses and some part of him felt satisfaction that it was caused by him. Her clothing was tussled, and her hair still in the insufferable twist that prevented her from letting it down.

She rose to her knees, but still had to look upward to stare into his eyes, even from the leverage the bed gave her. He reached for her again, sinking his fingers into her hair. He grabbed the clip that held her hair together and released her tresses; her hair fell upon her shoulders like a curtain. He tossed the clip, _much better_. He ran his fingers through the softness and kissed her again. Abigail locked her arms around his neck once again and pulled his body atop hers. She kissed him with a ferociousness that he did not know her capable of, it caused him to lose his breath. Suddenly she rolled them over and she was on top of him. He felt all the blood in his body rush to his center as that was where most of her weight and heat was concentrated.

She bunched the bottom of her dress that had risen up her thighs and pulled the garment over her head before slinging it across the room. Bathed in the moonlight that streamed through the window, she had to be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He ran his hands down the smoothness of her thighs, likening her skin to butterfly wings. He sat up, claiming her mouth once again. His lips trailed down the bone structure of her jaw, her throat, paying special attention to her pulse, her collar bone that taunted him on a daily basis. She was magnificent, almost like a fantasy, forbidden fruit…

Some of the fog was clearing but his actions would not cease. He tried for words instead, "Leftenant," he grabbed her face in his hands, their breaths intermingling, she was mere centimeters from his lips, "perhaps we should cease—" she quieted him with a searing kiss that stole all though from his mind.

"I think we both know that alcohol doesn't do anything but release inhibitions that were already skimming our thoughts…" she gasped as his tongued dipped into her clavicle "…the ones we keep hidden…" she kissed him "…boiling…" she nipped his bottom lip "…under the surface of desires we keep hidden with…" she ground her bottom into his lap, "…tightly controlled façades." She smirked, unbuttoning his shirt, _the mynx_ "These days they call it liquid courage. It forces you to act out of _all_ reason."

"I do believe you are correct in that assessment Ms. Mills." Ichabod responded into the shell of her ear.

"Call me Abbie." She breathlessly requests.

"I hardly think that appropriate—" He starts.

"And this is?" She wiggles in her current location for good measure.

The blood drains from his face, "You are correct yet again. Yet, my actions refused to be stopped." He tastes her throat again, desiring to leave a mark. Suddenly, there was a flash of red hair and bright green eyes. "Katrina?"

Oblivious to his visions Abigail responds, "No, it's Abbie, your partner, your fellow witness."

"Abbie…" He repeats.

"Yes…" She nips at his throat. "Katrina is your wife…" she kisses him. "…your wife whom we rescued from purgatory..." she takes his lips more slowly, savoring their taste and the roughness of his beard, "…who is very much alive…" her kisses grow slower, then she freezes, and it is as if she had been doused with ice water, "OH MY GOD! You're still married! You have a wife!" She scrabbles to remove herself from his person so quickly that one would think Ichabod was the flames of hell.

"Abi—" He starts.

"No, not Abbie…I'm Mills. I'm Mills and you are Crane with a wife named Katrina. A wife who we saved from Purgatory and who currently resides with the Horseman of Death—I'm sorry, we shouldn't be doing this."

"Ms. Mills I do not…I am not normally so absent of self-restraint."

She smiles awkwardly, like it is the last thing she wished to be doing. "It's okay Crane, we can both chalk it up to the alcohol, the apocalypse, the funeral….I don't know, stress." Suddenly she realized she was standing in nothing but her underwear.

"I doubt—"

She scans the room quickly retrieving her crumpled pile of dress and begins to put it back on. "Don't doubt, leave it at that." She pulls it over her head, and shoves her arms through. "Now, I'm going to call another taxi, go home, sleep and tomorrow we'll both acknowledge that this," she motions between the two of them, "never happened."

"Leftenant—"

"Night Crane." She cuts him off, leaving the room as quickly as her feet could take her. Ichabod Crane, husband to Katrina (a fact he failed to recall earlier in the evening), and witness to the End of Days, found himself entirely unsure both of what had just occurred and how to conduct himself. While his mind was now relatively blank, his body was still incised. There were two things he thought of at that moment…_that is the most I do believe I have ever heard the Leftenant speak_, and…_after all that has occurred this night, why do I not feel immense regret for committing such grievous transgressions?_

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><p><strong>AN:**** There will be typos and errors, I'm sorry to those that it really annoys. It took me forever to type it out then I was too posting happy to contact a beta**** shun me if you will. Anyway, how did you like it? Please review; they're the life source of an author's writing, plus it fun to listen to your thoughts. **

**P.s.**** The K-pop references had purpose…I'm one of the people sucked into the Hallyu and YG is my bias. G-Dragon is also my future husband. If anyone has any inquires about the world of Kpop and what not, I'll be glad to open a door to whole new world.**


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